Sleeping and Sin
by The Third Biker Scholar
Summary: A mouse stays over after his bros leave for the night. Just what does he have in mind for Charley?


A mouse stays over after his bros leave for the night. Just what does he have in mind for Charley?

Disclaimer: I don't own the sexy mice, damn my luck.

Sleeping and Sin  
by inuficcrzy

The movie night at Charley's was over, and his other bros had already headed back to the board to sleep. He had promised to catch up later, but for now, he would clean up so their girl wouldn't wake up to a mess. It was late, going on two in the morning, and she had been so tired. She'd barely been able to stay awake for the first movie at six in the afternoon after a long day working. The poor girl hadn't made it thirty minutes into the second film, falling asleep against his arm.

Charley slept like a child, curled up on her side. She had wrapped her thin arms around his much larger limb, holding on like it was a giant pillow. Her oversized sports shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing the creamy skin that covered her breastbone. A pair of cutoff shorts rode low on her hips and high on her thighs, showing long gorgeous legs. Her delicate feet were covered in small white ankle socks, boots tossed off to the side of the room.

He gently untangled her arms from his own and laid her down on the couch cushions. Her soft whimper of protest was the only sound besides his breathing as he moved to straighten up the room. He couldnt't help but admire her beauty. Alien she might be, but she would turn heads on any planet.

Dusky lashes rested on her pale cheek, her auburn hair falling in disarray around her face. Small puffs of breath had tickled his arm as she dreamed, often nuzzling into the soft fur with a content sound. Her pink lips were slightly parted as she breathed.

Hers was a look of perfect trust. Trust that he and his bros so often betrayed.

Her skin was the ultimate proof of that.

Villians had kidnapped her, bound and gagged her, _touched_ her. The mice would always come to her rescue, he was fairly certain they would merrily go save her from Hell itself, but they would always fail her. Her pale human skin showed their failures in frightening colors of red, brown, blue, black. Every mark, every scrape, every bruise exposed for the world to see, proof they had broken their promise to protect her.

She would protest whenever they fussed over the injuries, claiming that she hadn't been careful enough to avoid getting hurt. But they knew the truth. They failed her, so often it was terrifying. But she welcomed them back, no matter what happened, or how they broke her trust. She always welcomed them back to her side.

He paused in his cleaning as she shifted on the couch, the shirt tangling around her body and pulling tight across her breasts. She gave a tiny moan of sleep before going silent in dreams. The mouse could only stare at the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. As soon as the cooler air from an open window blew through, her nipples hardened, clearly defined under the thin fabric.

He found himself moving toward her, a hand reaching out to touch her skin, his tail coiling in tension. He wouldn't touch, he told himself, it would wake her. But he could trace her, and did, ghosting his hand along the lines of her body, a hair's width away from her skin. She sensed him, he knew she could, as she shivered beneath the warmth of his palm. He wondered how else she might shiver if he were to actually lay hands on her, drag his fingertips against the softness of her skin--

He tore himself away from her, nearly stumbling back as he reproached himself. He couldn't do that to her, not when she was asleep, vulnerable, unable to give permission. The mouse hurried to the bathroom, ducking his head under the faucet and turning on the cold water. The chill cleared his thoughts for a moment, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He shook his head ruefully, amazed that a human girl could get him so hot and bothered.

But it wasn't that surprising, really. It had been years since he'd been with a female, of any species. Hell, he would probably find a cow sexy if it were sentient enough to want to return the gesture. But Charley had so much to offer, any male would be tempted. A sharp wit, brilliantly intelligent. A soft heart, willing to give anyone a chance, quick to forgive, easily accepting the appearance and seeing the person inside it. An incredible body with curved hips, graceful arms, her breasts the perfect size to fill his palm. Beautiful long legs that he could just imagine parting for him, wrapping around his waist to anchor her as he slowly pushed inside--

A hot ache seized his lower half, nearly doubling him over at the intensity of it. He knew she'd be tight, her size alone guaranteeing that she would be like a vice on his cock. The mouse was instantly hard as the image of her opening for him came to mind. Would she moan his name when he slid all the way inside her? Would she scream as he started to thrust?

He knew he shouldn't, knew he could never look at her the same again if he did this, but it ached so badly he had to. The Martian fought open the belt of his jeans, yanking down the zipper and nearly tearing his boxers off as he reached for himself. He was so damn _hard_, gods, he was always hard with her, he had to fight to hide it whenever she was around, for so long now. He stroked the head of his cock, seeing her in his mind, the shirt straining across her breasts. The shirt came off, her flesh exposed to his wandering hands. And he knew she'd be soft, her skin smooth as silk. Would she taste like she smelled, slight musk with a hint of sweet? How would she cry out if he licked her nipples, sucking on her?

The mouse began to stroke his shaft as he thought of how it would be to curl his tail around her body, letting it explore the delicate planes of her shoulders, the skin of her back, move it lower to coil around her hips. The tip would caress the curve of her ass, trace the dip of her hip bone before diving under those shorts and her panties, down into the cleft of her legs. Would she like it if he used it to tease her flesh, rubbing on her clit before sliding it inside her passage? He stroked his cock faster as he imagined how she would sound if he used his tail to make her cum for the first time, thrusting it in and out of her in mimicy of what his lower body wanted to do.

His balls began to tighten and ache as he saw the image of her sliding her clothes off her hips, down her thighs, dragging the cotton of her underwear away from her center. He knew her musk would smell amazing, would make him drunk on her pleasure, eager to give her more of it. He gripped himself tightly, imagining those long legs moving up to cradle him as he positioned himself above her. How he would part her pink flesh, sink deep inside her until she sheathed him to the hilt, as far as he could go within her.

He'd go slow, for her to adjust to his size, for him to savor her body, for him to stop moaning at her heat. Slow thrusts, getting deeper and harder as she started to moan his name, shifting to take him in even more. Would she be kissing him as he pushed within her? Nuzzling under his jaw, her lips sucking on the pulse in his neck? Or would she bite at his shoulder, her small teeth bringing a mix of pain with his pleasure? Would she drag her nails down his back, make him cry out? Or would she try to touch him as he drove into her, reach down and cup his balls in her hands to make him cum faster--

He gave a strangled cry as his orgasm crashed over him, the image of her in pleasure burned into his mind. His knees gave out from under him, sending him to the floor with a hard thump, his other arm barely able to catch himself from falling completely. By the goddess, he couldn't remember the last time he had cum so hard. He drew in shaking breaths as he cleaned up the bathroom, his thoughts whirling. He should go, right now, before he did something very stupid. Like try to touch her in reality.

The mouse fixed his clothing and headed back out to the main room, thanking whatever deity was listening that he hadn't woke her with his cry. He took the folded blanket from across the top of the couch and covered her with it before he hurried down to the shop and his waiting bike. Things would never be the same between them now, even if she never knew why. He prayed to the gods she would never find out why.

Modo walked his bike out the garage doors and slammed on his helmet before closing the metal gate. He revved his bike to life and raced out in to the Chicago night.

I'll bet no one saw those last two lines coming. (winks)


End file.
